


Run Like Hell

by Olivier_Mira



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Past Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 02:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14823866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivier_Mira/pseuds/Olivier_Mira
Summary: M-21 freaks out re: Crombel's reappearance. Angst ensues.





	Run Like Hell

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers for 513-15, but I have read them, so my writing was undoubtedly affected by them. Also don't mind Franky in this fic; my Franky Muse is just super jealous that M-21 gets to spend quality time with Rai. Run Like Hell is a song by Pink Floyd.

M-21 was seriously in danger of losing his shit. He had to get out, _out,_ away from prying eyes, away from probing questions. Away from anyone he could potentially harm. Because when he was _like this,_ he could conceivably lash out at anyone at any time and that was _not_ good. He’d barely kept it together with the kids earlier. There was no point in risking doing or saying something that he’d only regret in the future. 

_Hah. As if there’s even gonna be a fucking future for me._

There was danger clock of sorts in M-21’s head, a kind doomsday countdown that never really stopped ticking. It counted down the days he had to remain in the sunshine, the days where no one was actively kicking his face into the concrete on the regular. Days he had before whatever pretty illusion that he foolishly allowed himself to believe was shattered - that someone actually gave a shit about him and that his days of existing only to be abused were behind him. _So much for that pipe dream._

 _I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have known better._ He kicked at the debris on the deserted rooftop, launching himself in a random direction. The dark recesses of his mind that never shut up, his own personal Hell’s chorus, were busy cackling mercilessly at him. _What, you thought things would be different now? Are you fucking kidding me? Pathetic. That’s what you are. Enjoy your illusion of freedom while you can. Soon enough, you’ll be right back under_ his _thumb, under the lash of_ his _whip. Which is all you have ever deserved._

M-21’s claws shot out reflexively as he soared through the moonlight. It took a considerable amount of control to retract them again. _Don’t know why I bother. Might as well let the world know I’m a monster. Not like it’s gonna make a hell of a lot of difference soon anyway._

 _Crombel._ That sick, sadistic motherfucker. It just figured that he was behind all of this. Maybe it was just as well that the Union had an army of death satellites. At least then, you went quick. M-21 could think of at least 20 worse ways to die off the top of his head, most of which he had experienced himself. Instantly dissolving into a pile of ashes seemed merciful by comparison.

Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. _Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking._ But his mind insisted on unconsciously following its well-worn tracks. A long time ago he had figured out multiple methods of taking his own life, should the need arise. Although he would never breathe a word of it to anyone, he had watched a number of his companions commit suicide over the years. Usually by poison, some by asphyxiation. Hanging was popular: it wasn’t hard to get a hold of heavy electrical cords. And it wasn’t like the Union really gave a shit, barring them losing their precious experimental data.

The easiest method, however, was simply to make a “mistake” while being forced to fight to the death. He and M-24 used to take a perverse pleasure in knowing that they were fucking with the Union’s data by fixing most of those fights. Maybe it was lame to celebrate such a small victory when at any time, any one of them could be beaten within an inch of his life and left in a cold cell to die in retaliation. Still, it had felt good to stick it to those bastards any way they could.

The problem was, M-21 knew that he was more powerful now, so he had no idea how to kill himself and stay dead. Considering what had apparently happened with Muzaka recently, he could be completely fucked in that regard. _Great, all I fucking need is to not-quite die in battle and then end up as that sadistic fuck’s lab rat again._ Maybe he could have a covert conversation with Tao about it. He had heard that groups like DA-5 had been issued cyanide pills in case their plans went south. How much cyanide would it take to kill him these days, he wondered?

That was one useful thing about the Union: you always knew how much of what shit would kill you. The lethal dose for a human being weighing approximately 160 lbs was .3632 grams of potassium cyanide. M-21 had survived that with a mere three days of convulsions, vomiting, respiratory failure and lung damage. For the Union, that was a Sunday stroll in the park. It would probably take at least three times that to kill him now. He wondered briefly if Frankenstein kept data like that for modified humans. Probably.

But it didn’t matter, now. Nothing mattered. M-21 was achingly familiar with the upcoming role he was destined to play. Two words: _fucking liability._ His presence in whatever ensuing drama occurred would only be a burden, an encumbrance. He was too volatile, too unstable. He would be a danger to everyone around him. And he knew one thing with absolute certainty: Crombel would not hesitate for a fraction of a second to use M-21 as a bargaining chip against Frankenstein. If Frankenstein were on his own, he might sacrifice M-21 for the sake of everyone else. Maybe.   

But Raizel would stop him. M-21 knew he would. Granted, he didn’t understand _why_ he would, but he knew it nevertheless. And M-21 could not let that happen.

 _He’s too nice. You can’t be like that with a sick son of a bitch like Crombel._ M-21 knew this all too well. The number of times he had witnessed people desperately begging Crombel for their lives only to be viciously and mercilessly exterminated were too many to count. And if he really let himself think about it – _stop thinking –_ he would remember those times when he, too, begged Crombel on his knees to stop the abuse. The sickening shame of those vile memories nearly choked him.

 _Stop. Move on. It’s over._ Everything was over. He had failed. Despite all that he had endured, fighting all those years for survival, all those promises he had made to his dead companions… it had all been in vain. He would have laughed if it weren’t so fucking pathetic. _That’s right,_ the pitiless voices agreed. _Fucking pathetic. That’s all you’ve ever been. That’s all you’ll ever be._

But the thing was, those shaming voices, those dark thoughts, spending every day of his life assuming the next might be his last… M-21 was used to all of that. What he _wasn’t_ used to were these strange new feelings that had somehow invaded his system, seemingly without his knowledge or consent. After a lifetime of merely clinging to this wretched existence, an internal shift had occurred. Suddenly, absurdly, M-21 wanted to live.

This unusual feeling was somehow different from struggling for survival for the sake of his comrades. Not that he had forgotten them. His inability to find their names still cut him incredibly deeply. But this was… something altogether unique.

 _It’s those damned kids._ M-21 had known he was in trouble the minute he and M-24 had laid eyes on them, what seemed like a century ago. Despite the inner warning bells going off in his head, telling him to get the _hell_ out of here _right now,_ there was another voice calling to him. A quiet voice, yet somehow, it seemed to carry a tremendous amount of weight. _I can’t die. I can’t run away. I need to protect those kids. I need to protect my comrades. I need to protect… him._

The very idea – that there was anything _he_ , M-21, could do to protect _him_ , Raizel - was preposterous. Shaking his head in a fruitless effort to clear it, he tried to focus on the facts, the reality of the situation. His relative strength in comparison to his incredibly powerful associates was approximately zero. It was painfully clear. He was a handicap, period. Obviously, the best thing he could do would be to remove himself from the equation. But why did that feel like the exact _wrong_ thing to do? The last time he had chosen to flee on his own, it hadn’t worked out too well. Right now, this minute, he honestly had to admit that he had no idea what he should do. No _fucking_ idea whatsoever.

A long time ago, he had learned how to make hard choices in shit situations. What he personally needed or desired usually had fuck-all to do with it. M-24 used to have a droll way of putting it: “Around here, it’s one big shit sandwich. And every day, like it or not, every single goddamned one of us is gonna have to take a bite.” There was no reasoning with the Union, no explaining, no getting what you wanted if you played your cards right. Everyone was gonna get fucked; the only thing that changed was how hard. Allowing your feelings about what you think should or shouldn’t be happening get in the way was a suicide move. Surviving in that environment necessitated strangling every last inch of human sentiment you possessed in favor of cold, hard logic: _it was better to volunteer to be tortured than to let someone die; it was better to let the older ones die so the young could survive; the survival of the group was more important than the survival of one._

The survival of the group was more important than the survival of one.

M-21 _knew_ this. He knew it as if it were tattooed on the back of his skull. Whatever his own thoughts and feelings were about all of this didn’t fucking matter. His own life didn’t matter. What mattered was that the rest of the group – the rest of the damned world in this case – continued to exist. That’s it.

So why did he feel like he was being wrenched in half?

Sighing, he alighted onto the roof of an abandoned building. This far out from the city, a few of the brighter stars were just barely visible. To M-21, the night sky was a miracle that he never thought he’d ever experience on a regular basis. He used to choose the night missions specifically for the Union if he could – not that he ever had much choice - just to catch the occasional glimmer of starlight. When they were training on Frankenstein’s island, M-21 would go walking by himself in the evenings. Although he made a show of craving solitude, the truth was, the great expanse of infinite stars was so overwhelming to him that he was afraid he might become emotional in front of the others.

Flicking his lighter once, twice, then a third time with shaking hands, he lit a cigarette. _Just another luxury not meant for people like me._ Exhaling, he realized that he was probably exhausted. He still struggled with things like remembering to eat, remembering to sleep, not overdoing it with sparring. “Overdoing it” was not in M-21’s vocabulary. If he could still get up, he hadn’t overdone anything, right? Takeo had taken to grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and hauling him into the shower when he figured he’d had enough. Tao snuck little packages of nuts and dried fruits into his pockets. Although he would never admit it, M-21 really appreciated these little gestures from his comrades. They made him feel… something. Valued? Maybe that was it…

Sure enough, he reached into his jacket pocket and there was a small package there. Pulling it out, he read the scribbled note stuck to the packet of tiny koala cookies: “Don’t forget to eat! Love, Tao.” M-21 had to chuckle, despite his black mood. Tao had a way with people. Stubbing out the last of his cigarette, he opened the pack of chocolate filled cookies. _Wow, I must be hungry. These things are really freaking good._ He wolfed down the package and was about to toss the wrapper away when he heard a sigh from behind him, causing him to spin around. _How did I not notice…??_

“Really, M-21?” Frankenstein stood with his hand on his hip, eyes rolling. “What is it with you kids and throwing trash everywhere? Do you just constantly produce effluvia? It’s like I’m running a kindergarten.”

“S-sorry?” M-21 mumbled, his mouth still full of koala cookie crumbs. _Shit. They were back already? I thought I had more time._

“Why do I have the feeling that I have caught you in the act in more ways than one?” Frankenstein was staring at M-21 with a look that said _I know exactly what you’re doing and I’m giving you just enough rope to hang yourself._

M-21 coughed. There was no point in playing dumb with a genius. “Look, I know what you’re gonna say…”

Frankenstein interrupted him before he even got started. “No, I don’t think you do. Because I’m not going to say anything.” There was a rush of warm air and Raizel noiselessly touched down right behind Frankenstein. M-21 declined to meet his eyes, afraid of what he might see written there. “I would have just left you here to mope for another 99 hours or whatever? But Master wants to speak with you. Apparently, every werewolf in creation wants all of his time and energy this evening. Make it snappy, will you? We have things that need to be taken care of at home.”

With that, Frankenstein completely disappeared. M-21 didn’t even see him leave. It was like he was there one second, stomping his foot with impatience and then he was gone.

And there was Raizel, his hand outstretched. “M-21. Come here.”

Not knowing what else to do, he complied. As soon as M-21 reached out, he was swept immediately off his feet. They were suddenly traveling incredibly fast. Normally this would have freaked him out, but there was something about Raizel’s presence that calmed him. He didn’t know if it was something that he did deliberately or if it was just the effect he had on everyone. M-21 had noticed it with the kids, too.

Raizel stopped abruptly and it took M-21 a minute to get his bearings. They were suddenly perched on a rocky outcropping by the sea and when he looked up, his breath caught. Above them were ten thousand stars.

“D-did you… Can you…?” M-21 stuttered. _Did he read my mind?_

Raizel’s crimson eyes were focused on the dark waves. “Are you asking if I saw the stars in your mind? Yes, I did.” He now turned to face M-21. “I would not normally do so without your permission. But your mind cried out to me.”

 _My mind… what?_ M-21 wasn’t sure what to think about that. This was definitely out of his depth. “S-sorry…?”

“M-21. You seem to be confused about something.”

_I’m confused about a hell of a lot of things._

“May I show you?”

M-21 wasn’t sure what he meant until Raizel brought a finger to his own lips and then stretched out his hand. It took M-21 a moment to realize that his slender finger was dripping blood. He hesitated. _Hadn’t Frankenstein said that Raizel using his blood takes away from his life energy?_ M-21 didn’t want to be the cause of that. It also occurred to him that Frankenstein might actually murder him in his sleep for this.

Yet something was already happening. M-21 found himself moving toward Raizel despite his misgivings. It was as if the blood of the Noblesse were calling out to him. Before he had even made a conscious decision, red blood was on his lips and he was being transported far away.

The scenes that appeared in front of him were confusing. He saw Raizel fighting what seemed to be countless enemies, taking them down one after the other. Then there were others who came forward, seemingly friends. M-21 didn’t know who any of these people were, but it was clear that Raizel knew them very well, some of them for centuries. But they had transgressed, taken innocent lives, and caused widespread suffering. Their crimes were punishable by death and the Noblesse was their executioner. Though it pained Raizel very deeply, each one of these former companions was eradicated by his own hand.

M-21 recognized Muzaka among these offenders. Though he didn’t understand everything that had happened, it was clear that Muzaka had transgressed in the past and that Raizel had to stop him. This had not only been excruciatingly painful for the Noblesse, it had also taken him out for a long period of time. M-21 didn’t even realize that could happen.

The most difficult scene to witness, however, was one in which a second Noblesse appeared. M-21 was completely confused: wasn’t Raizel the only one? Could there even be two at once? He didn’t get it, but two things became painfully clear: the second person who looked just like Raizel was his brother, twin brother if M-21 wasn’t mistaken. And just like all the others, he also had to be put to death.

The sheer anguish that flooded Raizel at having to execute his own brother knocked M-21 straight out of the blood reverie. He fell to his knees, gasping and coughing. _Fuck… that was… what the hell was that??_

Raizel silently put his hand on M-21’s shoulder. M-21 felt that calming energy flowing through him once again. Sitting up, he tried to breathe. He had no idea how to process everything he had just seen.

“M-21,” he said finally. “Don’t you see? You don’t have to worry. About me being _too nice._ ”

M-21 froze. _Is he saying what I think he’s saying?_ He turned to look at the Noblesse. M-21 had never seen eyes so sincere on any living creature.

“You are correct that I would not let you die. You are incorrect, however, that I have no understanding of what it means to sacrifice one for the sake of many.”

Considering what he had just witnessed, M-21 now felt pretty stupid about his previous assumption. Nevertheless, the creeping haze of doubt still haunted him. He put his head in his hands.

“I’m… I’m sorry. It’s not that I doubt you? Or Frankenstein. I just… I don’t want to be a burden. I… I just… I _can’t_ be.”

A paralyzing wave of nausea swept over M-21. His insides were churning. All of his bullshit seemed so meaningless in the face of these crazy cosmic forces colliding around him. As usual, he was being swept up in something he didn’t understand and he was powerless over whatever the outcome would be. Every time he thought he was on solid ground - every goddamned time - the earth started trembling underneath him and he was thrown right back into chaos. If this kept up, he really was going to lose his shit. It was too much. All his life, all he had ever wanted was for the world to stop for _five fucking minutes_ so that he could catch his breath. And every time, the world said _fuck you, kid._

He figured the current circumstances were no different. But -

“M-21. You are very much like Frankenstein.”

“W-What?” _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Me? Like him?_ Compared to Frankenstein, M-21 felt like a worm crawling along the ground. A very slow worm.

Raizel continued, sitting down next to M-21 on the dark rocks. “He always thinks that he has to figure out everything on his own. M-21. Don’t you see? You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

Whatever glue had been holding M-21 together at that point completely dissolved. The Noblesse put his arms around him, all of his walls came down and he clung to Raizel under the starlight and wept.

Time seemed to lose all sense of meaning. Images flashed through M-21’s mind that he had forgotten about since his awakening: the world suddenly in vivid, striking colors, the feeling of being truly alive for the first time in his life. Cool waters rushed over him, cobwebs were cleared away, scales fell from his eyes.

At the core of all these feelings that were flooding through him was something so foreign to M-21 that he almost didn’t recognize it: Raizel made him feel profoundly _safe._ His inner demons tried to argue with that, but somehow, every time they tried to raise their shadowy voices, a single pass of Raizel’s gentle hand through his hair banished them soundly.  

After some time, M-21 opened his eyes. The night sky spread out before him like dark velvet adorned by a thousand jewels. Raizel was behind him and he now stood, his hand still perched on M-21’s shoulder.

“M-21. I once thanked you for protecting me. Please allow me to protect you.”

M-21 couldn’t bring himself to answer, but that was okay. He knew he didn’t have to say anything. Raizel could feel that his consciousness had shifted, somehow.

They headed home – the word still sounded strange on his tongue – and M-21 was surprised to see the looks of relief and gladness on his companions’ faces when he returned. Tao actually ran up and hugged him before Takeo could stop him. Even Regis looked mildly reassured, though he did his best to hide it.

“M-21.” Frankestein cornered him before he could sneak off.

 _Uh oh…_ “Yeah?”

But the look in Frankenstein's eyes was more pensive than pissed off. He smiled gently as he spoke. “The view of the stars from the top of Mt. Fuji is particularly picturesque.” He paused. M-21 stared, unsure how to respond.

Frankenstein continued, his voice softer. “After this bullshit with Crombel is over, I’ll meet you there. Don’t even think about standing me up. Understood?”

“Y-yes. Yes, sir.”

“Good. Good night, M-21.”

M-21 somehow felt relieved and yet more confused than ever at the same time. Nevertheless, he knew one thing, something that he should have remembered from a long time ago. Although he was used to acting alone, the truth was, they were all stronger together. From now on, he was going to fight like hell for the family he had, alongside the family he had. No matter what.


End file.
